


Leave Me Not, for I Will Follow

by sunsetrose20



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Child Neglect, Malnutrition, Multi, On the Run, Post Mpreg, Starvation, questionable parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetrose20/pseuds/sunsetrose20
Summary: Thor didn’t know why he had expected Loki to have perished in that forgotten wasteland—Loki had survived a fall through the void, after all. What a stupid mistake on Thor’s part—but, somehow, it didn't seem rational either to have expected Loki to come back carrying what was possibly a dead child in his arms.
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor, Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Kudos: 50





	Leave Me Not, for I Will Follow

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense, this year has proved to be even worse than the last, so, despite the many other things I should be working on, I wanted to write something angsty and sincerely hope I succeeded. So I present to you... this! Whatever "this" is! I mean, I hope it is decent, at least.
> 
> Thoughts, ideas, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome.

He was alive. Somehow, miraculously yet unsurprisingly, he was alive, right here, sitting on the living room couch, years after his supposed death. Truth be told, Thor didn’t know why he had expected Loki to have perished in that forgotten wasteland—Loki had survived a fall through the void after all. What a stupid mistake on Thor’s part—but, when holding someone who had just been impaled through the chest, watching them struggle to take one last breath, their grasp on life slipping through their fingers like grains of sand, why should one expect anything but the irrevocable loss that only death could impart?

_ I had no choice, as I trust you can see. _

Perhaps, Thor thought, if Loki hadn’t faked his death so soon after their mother’s murder, then perhaps he could have had a chance, as slim as that chance would have been, to see through his brother’s cruellest trick. Or was that nothing more than another illusion? The illusion that Thor could somehow remember that Loki was no longer the innocent babe their mother entrusted into his arms, the lanky youth who gazed upon him with adoration, or the young man who swore to be always by his side. The illusion that Thor could somehow forget his duty as Loki’s protector and remember their brotherhood had been severed when faced with the possibility that Loki might come to harm if he didn’t act, that Thor could somehow risk his brother’s life simply because Loki, Trickster and Liesmith, had managed to cheat death in the past.

_ Truly, I wish I did not need to disturb you. _

Thor had mourned. He had wailed, and boozed, and grieved. He had mourned always knowing that as undeserving as Loki could be of his sorrow, his loss would ever outweigh that of his mother’s. Frigga, whose gentle fingers had threaded through his hair whenever he was troubled, would always step aside for Loki and his tricks and his taunts to take her place. The people around him had often wondered, after all that Loki had done, how could Thor mourn him with such fervour. And the answer was quite simple. Once, Thor had thought that Loki would be alongside him forevermore, leading Asgard into continued glory and prosperity beside him, the songs composed in their honour a reflection of their everlasting bond. Twice, Thor had seen Loki perish, and he, the Mighty Thor, had been powerless to stop it. The Norns were uncharacteristically gracious yet characteristically cruel by giving him a second chance with Loki, and he had thrown it away like a rusty sword. More than a duty to his family, he had a duty to his realm.

_ And I understand you have moved on, but… _

But Thor couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to the Realm Eternal, whose inhabitants were once revered as gods for their might and vitality, knowing how little it mattered in the end. In the moment of truth, they were as vulnerable to death as were humans. The Æsir might not be plagued by disease, but they were susceptible to the caprices of fate, nonetheless. What good did their long lives do them, then?  _ Human lives are fleeting _ , his father had said, and, not contrary to logic, that truth had only given Thor more reasons to cherish human lives whilst he could. His father could hold the throne for however many more decades Jane was destined to live. Thor knew that the constant loss would eventually chase him back to the Asgardian fortress.

_ But we will perish if you turn us away. He, of starvation, and I, of heartache. _

It had been such a pleasant life so far. So much more satisfying, Thor suspected, than ruling alone, navigating a court that he had never truly known, for the truth was, as Thor could now see it, that the friends he did have in Asgard were not suited for the subtleties of the court, a perilous place brimming with sycophants. His friends were instead born and bred for the gore and dangers of battle, a familiar atmosphere to which Thor was not yet ready to return, not even for the camaraderie that only life-threatening situations could foster. He had been telling the truth, Thor supposed, despite knowing he would have to return in less than a century, when he told his father he would rather be a good man than a great king. Life had been kind to him in recent years, Thor had to concede. To him and his spouse. It had been, perhaps, kind enough to become monotonous.

_ I fear I cannot go on any longer. We are starving and homeless. _

The same could not be said of Loki, however. Instead, the complete opposite was applicable to him. Thor knew for a fact that he had never seen anyone so gaunt they bordered on skeletal for all that he had complained Loki was nothing but skin and bones in their youth. Knowing that the cadaverous apparition sitting before him was none other than his lifelong companion just helped drill deeper the deception of his sheltered life. And Thor had thought there could be nothing worse than watching Loki be consumed by the void or be impaled through the chest. But now, with his gaze absorbed by Loki’s sunken eyes, his shedding hair, his trembling hands cradling a child close to his breast, Thor was being reminded to never tempt fate, for it would give him what he asked for and more. 

_ We are being hunted. _

The acrid smell of smoke was what had pulled Thor out of bed and into the living room, in fact. Thinking he had forgotten to take something out of the oven again, or perhaps even the microwave, Thor had paused one of those movies Jane considered too gory to watch with him and shuffled over to the kitchen, befuddled when he found it intact. It was on his way back to bed that he’d noticed the ghastly figure sitting on the couch. The whiff of mint in the air had been too painfully familiar to warrant Mjölnir in his hand, never mind the seemingly dead child. That was the first thing Loki had said to him, his voice too soft to be doubted:  _ Don’t worry. He’s still alive.  _ Thor had worried anyway. His vision had registered the singed parts of Loki’s clothing, the blackened corners of the blanket that pretended to miraculously protect the child from the cold, and he had almost ripped the hair from his scalp wondering how this could have ever happened. It was after minutes of torturous fretting that Thor flopped down on a chair in shock, remembering that Loki was supposed to be dead.

_ I know that I do not deserve your kindness. _

Thor worried the child’s laboured breathing would stop any moment now, though Loki, perhaps to excuse his belated action, assured him he would have never allowed it to come to that. Not if it could be helped. Indeed, the child looked better nourished than Loki, but not significantly so, his ribs standing out quite prominently even through the fabric of his blanket. He looked, quite miserably, like a drowned rat. A pitiful, shivering, little thing with a greasy mop of raven hair on his head, long enough that it brushed over his eyes, two wide orbs of sky blue that were instantly hidden against Loki’s tunic when his gaze crossed paths with Thor’s.

_ But he… he's your son. _

The child’s hand clenched in Loki’s oversized shirt, tugging on it as he sought comfort against Loki’s chest, exposing a lighter patch of skin on Loki’s sternum.

_ Your firstborn. _

Joyous laughter flowed in through the open door, rudely halted by their groceries spilling across the wooden floor, the ensuing silence broken by the sweet, confused voice of his daughter, the child to whom, whenever they watched one of those princess movies she so adored, Thor promised a kingdom, a crown, and everything she desired.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how the timeline would work here. Maybe Loki, whilst masquerading as Odin, found out he was pregnant and, following the idea that he can't use magic when pregnant, decided it was better to leave Asgard, even though we know that didn't work out? I don't know.


End file.
